Read Online Aethosphere Chronicles: Storm of Chains by Jeremiah D. Schmidt - Free Book Online Page B

nearly a year during the Chimera’s restoration in
the fleet yards.
    “It’s good to see you again, my friend; damn
good,” he heard his father spout off in his slurred speech. “Were
you followed though,” he asked more gravely.
    “Not on the ground,” replied the captain
cautiously, before glancing up over his shoulder into the low-slung
clouds. The High Crown’s under-spires had become lost somewhere
above the billowing gloom settling in and promising more snow. “Not
sure about in the air though. Saw tale of activity from the old
Cloudfortress…so could be that an Iron warship got a bead on our
escape using ocular magnification.”
    “You boys talk strategy a minute, I’m going
to check in with the others,” said Abigail, giving the old
gentleman a pat on the shoulder with all the tenderness of a
diligent daughter. Without even so much as turning to say anything
to Drish, she strolled away. Not only hadn’t his father said a word
to him yet, but Abigail was just walking away…and all because of
this Resistance. But then had he really expected some
heart-to-heart farewell with the girl? He tried to push aside the
silly sentiment. After all, he wasn’t some hero of a war-tale who
was destined to get the girl in the end through his valiant nature
alone. No, this was real life…but then to be so casually forgotten
by everyone blew through him like the chilled wind off the
Lordswater.
    “Anyway, Arvis,” continued Bar, “I’d say
staying here too long is about as suicidal as staying at that
tavern of yours.”
    “Agreed, we’ll make preparations to retreat
down into the Smugglers’ Redoubt as soon as the last of the cells
have arrived.” For a moment Arvis shifted his eyes to his son as
though to address him, but Bar interrupted before he could.
    “Listen Arvis,” he said in hushed tones,
“this isle’s got edges. Eventually they’ll stumble upon the
Redoubt. You’re stuck on a floating trap, my friend, so what about
leaving…join one of the other factions…on Crowswaine maybe, where
the Empire isn’t as entrenched?”
    “Bar, even if I knew how to get in contact
with them, I wouldn’t risk it. That list’s got me thinking we might
have a snitch in our midst, and I won’t put any more men and women
in danger.” Suddenly frustration draw a clear path across the
malleable parts of Arvis’s wrinkled face. “Damn it!” He turned and
stalked, limp-legged across the cold, hard ground. “I hate to have
to think that any of these fighters are untrustworthy; not after
the sweat and the tears and the blood we’ve all shed together. I
don’t want to have to start thinking like that, because once we go
down that road—of accusing one another—well dammit, there’s no
going back. We’ll tear ourselves apart quicker than those imperial
siege hulks ever could.”
    Bar signed heavily and offered his old
friend a tired smile that set Drish squirming in place. “Sorry to
say, Arvis, but that’s something you just don’t have any control
over; not now; and I’m sure it’s only going to get uglier from here
on out. Now you know I got my ship, and you know you’re more than
welcome to come aboard—as though I got to remind you of that.”
    “Thanks, Bar, but no thanks. King’s Isle
isn’t lost. I won’t let it be, not my isle—not on my watch,”
vowed the crippled leader. “Damn those snitches! I can’t think of
anything worse than a traitor.”
    Drish felt guilt flush red-hot through his
cold-numbed face. Given the chance, snitching was exactly what he
aimed on doing. But then right here was exactly the reason why he
supported collaboration with the Empire in the first place. What
were these men accomplishing by huddling up in a burned-out
factory, besides being cold, paranoid, and doomed? If ever he had
to think of a way out of this mess it was now, before he was pulled
any deeper into the muck and the mud with these lost souls and
their dilutions of restoration. Sure, there was a